What the fuck is this new Winnie the Pooh “movie” doing in theaters? It’s barely an hour long! It’s not a movie, it’s an animated distraction to keep kids from literally climbing up the walls for 70 minutes while their parents attempt to catch their breath and pretend raising a child is not driving them absolutely insane.
Not only is Winnie the Pooh not an actual movie, it’s not even a kid’s movie. It’s a baby’s movie. It’s far too boring to keep your eight-year-old content—all the eight-year-olds in the crowd will lose interest 20 minutes in, after Winnie the Pooh whines for the fiftieth time that he’s hungry. (WE GET IT, YOU LIKE “HUNNY.” Now make something explode.)
Winnie the Pooh is for the four-and-under crowd, my friends, and you know what four-year-old babies do in movie theaters? They squirm and pee and ask a lot of questions and RUN UP AND DOWN THE AISLES and scream for more candy and soda even though it’s 11:30 in the morning.
“What’s that?” they’ll say when Pooh and friends try to replace Eeyore’s tail with a cuckoo clock. “What’s he doing that for?” they’ll ask when Tigger does something that Tigger does. And you don’t even have to answer them, because they don’t care what the answers are. They don’t care about anything. They’re four!
They don’t care that Eeyore lost his tail, they don’t care where Christopher Robin went and if some imaginary monster called a Backson is cooking him up into little-British-boy soup, they don’t care that Winnie still hasn’t found any honey to eat, or that She & Him are singing unbearably (heh) cute songs about Pooh’s adventures. They just want to complain about how Sour Patch Kids hurt their tongue and then keep eating them anyway while they poop in their diapers and watch something shiny splash across the screen.